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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23752963">Tea Time</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrutallyRomantic/pseuds/BrutallyRomantic'>BrutallyRomantic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tea Time [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:29:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,965</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23752963</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrutallyRomantic/pseuds/BrutallyRomantic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are you having nightmares again?" Sometimes an occasional encounter can make more of a difference than expected. A collection of moments.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tea Time [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112825</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>354</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Sorry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Are you having nightmares again?</em>
</p><p>The slightly clumsy clink of cup set on saucer by a shaky hand is the only answer Narcissa received from the girl sitting opposite her, hardly a surprise. It is the only answer the witch needs.</p><p><em>I'm sorry,</em> Narcissa responded to the silence.</p><p>Moving her pawn forward one space on the chess board, Hermione kept her eyes directed downwards, apparently focusing on the game. It had become a peculiar ritual, this.</p><p>Nearly a year ago, after the destruction of Hogwarts in the war and the death of the Dark Lord, all had been in ruins. Not the least of which included Narcissa's personal life. With her husband barely pardoned and her son working out of the country, home had become cold despite the initial warmth and relief of surviving the battle intact. As a result, the blonde witch had taken to sneaking out and frequenting a little known café in the corner of Diagon Alley. After a month of nearly daily patronage and tea, she was found out.</p><p>Perhaps found out was a bit too strong. She was <em>seen</em> rather, by none other than the brightest witch of the age. Narcissa breathed into her teacup at the memory, the way her heart had sped in reaction to the witch who once graced her floor. Shame flushed her cheeks and made it impossible for her to finish reading the article she had begun that day, the mere eye contact that she had made with the girl leaving her fleeing the café.</p><p>Narcissa had avoided the place for the next week. That is, until she once again felt claustrophobic in the cloyingly large empty spaces in the Manor, so filled with awful memories.</p><p>The café was hers for an hour, until Hermione appeared once more. This time, however, Narcissa held her ground, though she avoided looking up from her paper at all costs. The girl chose a table on the opposite side of the little café, seated with a scone and a book.</p><p>Even with her eyes glued to the Prophet, the blonde witch could make out Hermione's distant outline. Weeks passed in this manner.</p><p>Becoming slowly comfortable with the ritual, Narcissa noticed when one afternoon, Hermione did not appear to take up her adopted table. Try as she might, flipping through her paper and eating more than one muffin, the woman could not keep her eyes from drifting to the abandoned table and wondering.</p><p>Three days passed in Hermione's absence, and with each Narcissa's curiosity grew. Where was the girl that had become a bit of a fixture in the space of mere weeks? Her return was celebrated with a scone; Narcissa made certain that the waitress understood that Hermione was not to know who had sent it to her table.</p><p>How funny, that she thought a scone could suffice as an apology. An apology? The thought startled the witch as she turned it over and examined it before tucking it away for later. Apologies were for the inferior.</p><p>The following day, Narcissa found to her surprise that Hermione was already at her table, reading. In general, the blonde witch came sometime around brunch, and the girl sometime after lunch. Yet here they both were, just barely before brunch time, and on Narcissa's table sat a scone.</p><p>She could not make eye contact, but when she was certain Hermione was not looking, Narcissa glanced up and saw that the girl was wearing the vaguest sort of smile. How pretty.</p><p>Oh dear, another thought to be put away for later.</p><p>Thus began another ritual, each attempting to outdo the other. Some days, Narcissa would arrive first and be sure that a scone was left for Hermione, and other days it would happen in the opposite fashion. It was a balm on a wound that Narcissa had yet to bandage, and she somehow suspected that it might be that way for Hermione as well.</p><p>There was a special day, one which might have been any other day but for the extra little gift sitting beside the scone on Hermione's table. Narcissa had arrived precisely as the little café opened that day, just to be sure that she would arrive first. The book was nothing very special, merely a good piece of wizarding literature that she had enjoyed in the past. She had purchased a new copy on a whim and chosen to leave it for the girl who was always reading.</p><p>The light in Hermione's eyes when they fell on the book was surprise and delight, and Narcissa allowed eye contact. Just this once, she promised herself.</p><p><em>Thank you</em>, Hermione had said to her, the first spoken words since the beginning of this…these encounters. Their rituals.</p><p>Narcissa nodded and mirrored to the girl that same vague smile that had painted Hermione's features after that first scone. She quite liked the girl's smile.</p><p>As ever, Hermione could not let things go unbalanced, the very next day finding a well-loved copy of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' sitting on Narcissa's table. Muggle literature. Narcissa was taken aback at first, and then made a very large step by reading, and an even larger by enjoying.</p><p><em>Thank you</em>, she said to Hermione, returning the familiar words.</p><p>The literature exchange continued, taking place of scones, as both women were avid readers. They became sort of compatriots in the arts, sharing the best bits of their own world.</p><p>There came a day with no book on Narcissa's table, and Hermione was not yet there. Sitting alone, and bookless, the witch drank her tea slowly and wondered at the girl's absence. She wouldn't say she was worried. Even if she was. She wouldn't say it. Or perhaps not worry but impatience, the sort where you cannot wait for something that has become a staple of everyday life.</p><p>Hermione arrived with a chess board, and Narcissa was surprised as she set it on her table and took the seat opposite her.</p><p><em>Hello</em>, Hermione started shyly, placing a leather pouch beside the wooden board. <em>Would you like to play?</em></p><p><em>Very well, </em>the witch responded with less uncertainty than she had felt. And so they played.</p><p>Each day brought a game with the funny little wooden pieces that did not look anything like wizard's chess. Narcissa suspected that this was Hermione's very own muggle made board, and it made it all the more unique.</p><p>With the game came the small talk, though mostly of books. Narcissa admitted to enjoying the literature, as Hermione thanked her for the wizarding books she had not yet encountered. Then silence, and the silence was comfortable.</p><p>There was a day in which Hermione appeared looking worn, the dark shadows under her eyes signaling a lack of sleep. A lack of restfulness. Narcissa said nothing until the shadows deepened, and on the fourth day of this she asked, <em>Have you been sleeping well?</em></p><p>Hermione remained silent for two turns, moving her pieces without so much as a peep and Narcissa ceased expecting an answer.</p><p><em>I have been having nightmares.</em> Hermione admitted this in a small voice, and it brought the other witch back to the place of shame and guilt, to where the girl was on her Manor floor.</p><p><em>I'm sorry</em>, said Narcissa in an equally small voice that drew Hermione's shocked gaze up with a jerk.</p><p>Hermione appeared to grow healthier. Narcissa's chess game improved. The small talk of literature returned.</p><p>But every couple of weeks, Hermione's eyes would darken again, and Narcissa would worry. And she would apologize after asking, <em>Are you having nightmares again?</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Christmas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione's outline was visible through the café's misted window, but Narcissa was lingering outside. Her hands were warm in their leather gloves, a charmed pair that held enough heat to keep one's fingers from freezing. The witch's legs protested the dalliance outside however, the wind cutting up under her long skirt and slicing through stockings as if they weren't there. Still Narcissa stalled. In her hands was a book, a very special book that she had thought to wrap thoughtfully in gold paper, small enchanted silver trees doing little shimmies across the glittering packaging. She scolded herself for the small shudders that dragged cold fingers up her spine, telling herself that this was just as any other day.</p><p>Nearly a year had passed since that first game of chess, and while the last Christmas had not seen interaction between Narcissa and Hermione in any respect since…well, the obvious, this one was different. It was late January when the games began, and now Christmas had come once more. Narcissa had half expected to come to the café and, being that it was already the 23rd of December, find an empty table in the spot she had come to see as her own. But no. A delicate silhouette graced the normal place, and it set the witch's nerves aflutter. Scowling more openly than she might've were she already indoors, Narcissa again reminded herself that it wasn't as if she had never given the younger witch a gift. Books had passed between their hands almost as frequently as their chess games. But somehow, the fact that it was Christmas made all the more…. Something.</p><p>There was no little bell over the door, but an enchanted 'ting' did ring out as Narcissa entered the establishment. A smile blossomed on Hermione's face as she met Narcissa's gaze, standing to greet her. It was strange, Narcissa thought, as she had never done so before, and it almost looked as if the brunette witch might hug her. A shadow of embarrassment and something else passed over Hermione's face, and she instead reached for Narcissa's hand. The thought that she might've been able to receive her first hug since her son's visit months earlier was Narcissa's own passing shadow, and caused a bubble of emotion she wasn't prepared to deal with.</p><p>"Happy Christmas!" Hermione said merrily, if slightly subdued, as she shook Narcissa's hand firmly. Still, it was more contact than the witch had experienced in a while.</p><p>"It's a bit early yet", teased Narcissa, though with a smile. Her hand was held behind her back, the gift concealed. Hermione gave a small laugh and moved to sit back down, Narcissa following and seating herself across from the witch. "I'm a bit surprised to see you. Do you not celebrate with your family?" The question was sincere, but Narcissa hadn't thought of the bite it might hold for her own self, summoning thoughts of her own magnificent Christmas tree and the empty manor it called home. Hermione shifted in her seat, eyes dropping from Narcissa's for a moment before her face was ruled by a smile that could only be classified as wry.</p><p>"I plan to go home and see my family, but I do still like to get away. It is a little strange to be back in the muggle world sometimes."</p><p>"I imagine so", commented Narcissa, uncertain of what else to say.</p><p>"And yourself?" asked Hermione in response, before she really thought. When Narcissa's expression washed itself clean, Hermione flinched. She hated doing that. There were times, too often she feared, that something she said provoked this reaction in the older witch. Her face would grow smooth and no emotion could escape. Hermione had come to recognize and identify this as a sort of regal mask to some degree, and Narcissa as a queen in her own right, looking right at home in her fine leathers and furs. Her cheeks pinked as Narcissa answered calmly, "I am sure that I will see my family come Christmas morning." It was all she said before glancing down into her lap, remembering the gift still hidden there. "This is for you", she said briskly, holding out the parcel across the table, her features held carefully neutral. Hermione was surprised and pleased, though bashing herself slightly for not having finished her own gift for the witch sooner.. Of course Narcissa would have thought of sharing a gift before Christmas, in the cafe and at their leisure. After all, she had started it all.</p><p>With that thought in mind, Hermione took the present gingerly, not wishing to seem too over eager. But it was hard. Narcissa, though she might not have seemed it before, had a surprisingly good taste in literature. Then again, thought the girl, she had yet to see a single thing that Narcissa didn't have good taste in. Except people, perhaps, came the sour thought. It was banished swiftly as Hermione held the rectangle in both hands. It felt like a book, and Hermione reasoned that it was one, but one could never be sure with magic.</p><p>Narcissa's eye tracked the girl's reaction, feeling just a little pleased when Hermione's eyes lit up, as they had with that first book. This one was certainly going to show up her first gift however. Hermione hesitated, a small smile curling her lips at the enchanted wrapping, her finger traced a dancing tree. "Can I open it now, or must I wait until Christmas?" It was half a tease and half a question. How was she to know what Narcissa expected?</p><p>"Well, if you promise to still be good, I feel sure Father Christmas won't mind one early present", Narcissa's answer came playfully, helping to ease the tension and her expression. Hermione's face remained pink as she gave a small laugh and tore gently into the paper. Dropping a pile of gold onto the table as she revealed the gift, confusion was then smothered by delight as she opened what had appeared to be a book at first glance. The cover was elegantly wrought with the symbol of the Black family, a questionable choice in present to this particular witch, but it was a family…not quite an heirloom but something like one hundred years old and made on special orders of some ancestor or other that had also been a fan of reading. Though it appeared to be just another book from the outside, the inside presented a small and no doubt pricey collection of books picked from Narcissa's own library. There were several novels that the blonde witch had yet to share with Hermione, first editions and rare enough that she was reasonably confident the younger witch wouldn't have read them, but beside the stories were three books of spells that Narcissa was certain Hermione would not have seen.</p><p>"Cromwell's Collection of Spells and Enchantments for the Exceptional Witch or Wizard on the Battlefield", Hermione read aloud, tracing the spine of one spellbook. The other two held no title on their spines, but the magic they possessed was clear by the sheen of the leather that seemed to shudder when the brunette stroked the spine. Wide eyes looked up to Narcissa, unsure and overwhelmed. "I don't know what to say", she said honestly, feeling that the moment called for the obvious statement. Narcissa gave her head a shake, lifting a hand.</p><p>"Please, I merely wanted to make sure these tomes were being used by a talented witch." Hermione shifted at the compliment, her smile fighting to get through the shy nature that had just increased by leaps and bounds.</p><p>"I don't have anything for you", said Hermione next, closing the enchanted book and stroking her fingers over the family crest. She would undoubtedly study it later. Narcissa again shook her head, a thought rebelling and wishing only Hermione's forgiveness. Those damned stray thoughts.</p><p>"I am thankful for your company", Narcissa responded simply, and it was true. The last year had been made brighter by the young witch. Where Narcissa had once only felt guilt at the brown eyes that dulled when she was unable to sleep, plagued by the dreams of events that Narcissa did not even try to stop, now she found a peculiar sort of comfort. Something had happened in the time, an understanding of some kind.</p><p>The war had destroyed many things, but Hermione had been determined not to allow it to destroy her sense of self. Admittedly, that first time she spotted Narcissa in the café she had heard such good things about, she was stunned. Had Narcissa not fled, Hermione certainly would have. But in the week of visits without sight of the blonde, Hermione had grown curious. When Narcissa returned, it was odd. Hermione felt almost suffocated by her presence, and yet she continued to frequent the café, hoping that perhaps Narcissa would too. Her wish was granted, and there was a bond that formed. Hermione had been born on one side of the war, and she came to realize that Narcissa had as well. But, when given the choice between winning the war, or winning her family, the blonde had chosen family. Despite the actions of Narcissa' past, that had gone a long way in Hermione's personal revelations concerning the blonde and the potential forgiveness she could offer. And in the end, thought Hermione, forgiving Narcissa might do a fair amount towards helping to banish that hold that her sister had over her mind. Long dead, and still Hermione was tormented.</p><p>"Have you been sleeping well?" The question was habitual when Hermione slipped away for too long, obviously into her thoughts. It had become more than the sum of the words Narcissa spoke, and instead was now like a code. The question showed care, Narcissa cared where Hermione's mind was, and that alone seemed to help. The more angry parts of Hermione's thoughts declared that it didn't matter an ounce what Narcissa thought. She would always be a pureblood elitist and nothing she did would ever make up for the torture she stood by and allowed to happen. These were the parts that caused Hermione to lose sleep nearly as often as the nightmares.</p><p>"I'm alright", Hermione answered, rather than go with the customary silence. Narcissa blinked, her lips curling at the sides at the response. Perhaps the younger witch really would be okay. And perhaps she would be forgiven eventually. "In any case", Hermione said suddenly, attempting to brush away the atmosphere that had suddenly grown heavy and reaching for the little bag of chess pieces, "I do believe it's time for your next loss."</p><p>"Oh, you think so?" Narcissa was ablaze with the competitive spirit, just as eager to ignore the serious issues still lingering between them. "We shall see."</p><p>Draco did stop by on Christmas morning, much to his mother's delight, but Lucius remained at his own manor. The man hadn't the manners to tell Narcissa himself, she had to hear from her son, who could see the rage and hurt even as Narcissa tried to conceal it. The man had no balls, as far as she was concerned. From the moment he had been pardoned, he'd retreated to a manor across the country, apparently too afraid to face his wife and the consequences of his actions and choices. Now, Narcissa had plenty to say to the man, but she hadn't been truly infuriated until the first week had passed with no communication whatsoever. She had expected the days of silence, reveled in it even, as the manor had been far more peaceful than it had been in years, but enough was enough. Owl after owl she sent, vacillating between fury and a homesickness for the man she had fallen in love with. The young married couple had been happy once, and even when Draco was small there was some sort of joy in the marriage, but the years had taken their toll. Lucius's choices had taken their toll, and what his own actions hadn't ruined, the Dark Lord had. At this point, hoping for Lucius's return was as much a dread as it was a wish, and there was a large part of Narcissa that hoped the man never came back. But he was her husband, and there would always be an ache in her heart for him.</p><p>Fortunately, Draco had been the perfect son for the entirety of the day. Unfortunately, Narcissa found herself overcome with curiosity over what the young witch she might dare call 'friend' would be doing at each moment. Draco, luckily, noticed her distraction only twice, but he assumed it was due to his father. Narcissa couldn't find the words to tell him that her thoughts were occupied by someone who was his father's utter opposite. But, of course, it wasn't the same kind of thoughts that she held for the two of them. That would be ridiculous. One was her husband, and one was a girl that she had watched her sister torture on her floor. The marble still looked discolored. Not that Narcissa ever looked at it. She had a large rug laid down over a year ago and hadn't allowed it to be budged since.</p><p>When Draco was gone, Narcissa seated herself before the fireplace beside her merrily shining Christmas tree. She held a glass up to the tree, toasting the time of year and the stars outside that seemed to compete with her bright tree. They twinkled as if they knew something she did not. The ring of a magical doorbell rang through the manor, startling Narcissa from her thoughts. That wouldn't be Draco, he would have just entered through the fireplace, or apparition. The grand front doors didn't make a sound when they opened, so perfectly charmed were they, but the squeaky voice of a house elf was almost audible from where Narcissa sat. She couldn't hear who responded, but she didn't have to wait long. The house elf, Lala, appeared in the doorway to the sitting room. "Miss Hermione Granger, my Lady. Shall I send her away?"</p><p>Narcissa was stunned, there was no other word for it. She was well and truly stunned. Hermione Granger, here again. Her breathing grew short and for a moment the elf looked on with concern as her mistress looked like she might faint dead away, so pale was she. But Narcissa pressed her lips into a thin lip to steady herself, then shook her head. "Show her in." The elf showed no surprise, though she felt it. She hurried to obey and a long minute passed, Narcissa still in her chair with a wine glass held tight in her fingers.</p><p>Nearly as pale as Narcissa as she entered the sitting room, Hermione's own face was drawn and tight, but she offered a small smile in greeting. "Hello", she said, after no response came to the elf announcing her presence. Narcissa tried very hard to keep her face neutral. In her own home, her domain, she should have been able to do it. But the place was as much prison as sanctuary and her voice faltered as she echoed back, "Hello." Then, shaking off the utter shock of the girl being once again in her home, though on very different terms, Narcissa stood and set her glass aside. "I must admit that I'm stunned." Hermione shrugged with one shoulder, and it was then that Narcissa noticed something in her hands.</p><p>"Yes, well.. I supposed I should give you this in return sooner, rather than later." Hermione swore inwardly at how stiff her voice was, even if she was relieved that Narcissa also seemed awkward due to her presence. What had she been thinking? The parcel in her hands was nothing, a scrap of nothing, she should know better. Narcissa could afford a hundred things better. A thousand even. But that just wasn't who Hermione was. She could never let things be unsettled. Paying Narcissa back for her gift was only natural. Though she could admit, just a little, that this might not be only about paying the older witch back. Holding out the box wrapped in green and red striped paper, Hermione kept from flinching when Narcissa approached.</p><p>Back in the café, where they both were just patrons, it seemed to aid Hermione in facing the regal woman. But here, in her home, Hermione was helpless against the essence of who the pureblood was. She was not very much taller, it had to have been the shoes she was wearing, but the long flowing silken silver dress robes that Narcissa had donned were hiding her footwear. Her hair hung loose, curling about her face but for a few strands pulled behind her head, eyes lit up by the reflection of the fire off of her robes. It created quite a picture, and adding the magnificence to Narcissa's own nearly royal bearing, it was rather overwhelming. Hermione shivered when Narcissa's surprisingly warm fingers brushed hers as she took the package. She was just cold, she told herself.</p><p>"Thank you", Narcissa said as she took the gift, marveling at the perfectly twisted red bow that she suspected the younger witch had done by hand. She was raised by muggles, after all. Where that once would have seemed such a horror, now Narcissa found fascination, if not pity. Really, how did they live without magic? She hesitated before tugging at the pretty bow, Hermione's anxious eyes watching on. Tearing at the paper, Narcissa found in her hands a small wooden box, flat like a jewelry box. She opened it and couldn't keep her lips from parting in surprise. Inside, nestled on burgundy velvet, a necklace greeted her with a silver sparkle. The silver pendant was a twist of metal as thick as two or three strands of thread held together curled into a delicate rune, one the witch vaguely recognized but could not place. When Narcissa tapped a finger to the pendant, feeling the magic down to her bones, there was a small purple spark and it grew warm, a peaceful sensation washing over the blonde witch. "Oh", came the surprised sound. That was new.</p><p>"I used the after effect of a Stupefy to fuse several strands of silver together, and then infused the whole thing with a calming draught. I thought the whole thing might be nice whenever you're stressed. You've seemed bothered before, and more often lately." The words rushed from Hermione's lips, startling Narcissa with their accuracy. She had, in fact, been feeling bothered as of late, mostly due to the strange connection she felt with the very witch making this observation. But she had believed she was hiding it well. Apparently that wasn't so.</p><p>"I see." Narcissa traced the rune again, wondering. "What does this mean?"</p><p>Hermione stepped close to Narcissa to look down at the necklace as well, anything to avoid the witch's gaze. So far, the response to her gift wasn't as entirely positive as she had hoped, but it wasn't entirely negative either, so Hermione held out hope that it was being received well.</p><p>"It means, roughly, 'New Year'. I thought it would be a nice symbol, perhaps, that we've been…chatting for nearly a year", Hermione paused to take a breath, looking only down at the necklace, then continued, "And perhaps also, a nice symbol of hope for another year of company." Narcissa was touched by the thought that went into this gift, and the obvious magical skill required to make it.</p><p>One hand lifted to touch her bare neck, noting that she hadn't donned a necklace, even when her neck was bare, since six months ago when she had removed the one that Lucius had given her for their third anniversary. Perhaps she needed a change. Glancing at Hermione, who was still avoiding her eye, Narcissa wore a smile.</p><p>"I like it", she finally said, "It's beautiful. Would you help me put it on?" Narcissa was turning and setting the box aside, removing the necklace, as she asked, so she didn't see how Hermione brightened, rivaling her Christmas tree, at the praise, however mild.</p><p>"It'd be my pleasure", answered Hermione honestly, taking the necklace from Narcissa. The blonde witch presented her back, lifting her hair. Hermione reached around, careful not to make contact with the oh-so-pale flesh as she fastened the catch. Her anxiety at once more being in the manor was momentarily forgotten. As Narcissa let her hair drop, Hermione caught a waft of her soap, something with orange.</p><p>"How does it look?" Narcissa asked, to which Hermione smiled and finally met Narcissa's eye again. The blonde locks fanned around the older witch's face, her expression happier than when Hermione had entered, a hint of teeth almost showing in her smile.</p><p>"Lovely."</p>
<hr/><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Update</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So sorry to get anyone too excited, but this isn't an additional chapter. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yet! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>I just wanted to take a moment and thank everyone who has read and left kudos on this work. The response in just a couple weeks has been wonderful! I can't believe these two precious babies already have over 500 hits! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As a thanks, when this reaches 100 kudos I will be adding a new chapter! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Again, you are all wonderful and I can't tell you enough how much I appreciate your support!</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Violets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay WOW. Within a few hours of posting the update, I got exactly what I was asking for. The response is simply overwhelming! So here is a tiny addition to the story. If I get inspired, I may write more. But for now, please know that I love and appreciate each and every one of you!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Violets, Hermione noted, held some sort of place in Narcissa's heart. The flower boxes lining the walls and shelves up near the ceiling of their cafe sported the flower as Spring took over in earnest. It was undeniable, the way that Narcissa's eyes lit up as they alit on the blue-purple smattering the place.</p><p>That alone might have been little indication of any special preference. But Hermione had taken to observing the blonde witch when she thought no one was looking. </p><p>Hermione was always looking. </p><p>In the Manor, of which Hermione and her chess board had become a regular guest, flowers covered the surfaces of most of the rooms that she'd seen thus far. The great hall was flooded with daffodils, the tea room with calla lilies, but the parlor in which they sat to talk and play and read was absolutely inundated with violets. Vast swathes of the blue flowers with their delicate white fringes spilled over the edges of the mantle and from each wide windowsill. Hermione wondered if there was meaning behind them, or if Narcissa simply found them pretty. </p><p>"Where is your head, Hermione?" asked Narcissa with an almost teasing quality to her voice. She'd not needed to ask about nightmares recently. Not since before Christmas. Fidgeting fingers toyed with the idea of reaching for her neck, but the pendant she'd made a habit of wearing was not there. </p><p>It had become a daily staple, the cool silver strands resting in the hollow of her throat and emitting a calm that Narcissa rarely felt capable of summoning on her own. But for when she was seated in her parlor, separated from Hermione by no more space than what was required by a chess board. </p><p>"Sorry", Hermione blinked herself from her thoughts with a sheepish smile, unembarrassed to have been caught out. "I was just appreciating at your flowers. Is there a reason you have so many?" Narcissa moved her piece on the board, flicking her eyes to her guest and then to her blooms.</p><p>"There is", she answered, folding her hands again in her lap. Hermione awaited elaboration, but received none. On Narcissa's face there was an unreadable expression, blending into something like that beautiful mask to which the girl had become accustomed. </p><p>"Sorry, I don't mean to pry", came another offered apology, to which the blonde shook her head. </p><p>"No, it's nothing." Narcissa brushed it aside, Hermione did not. </p><p>"No, really, it's not my place", and now the girl was slightly embarrassed. For Narcissa to display an emotional reaction not followed by her regal mask was an oddity and Hermione wasn't sure how to react. She took her turn in silence, avoiding the gaze of the witch across from her. </p><p>"They are..", Narcissa hesitated, ensnaring Hermione's full attention, "They are intended as..a calming method, of sorts." Her face was flushed, eyes directed at the chess board, for a reason the girl could not identify. "And violets are my favourite."</p><p>"Oh, I see", Hermione nodded, "You really find them so calming?" She wondered if perhaps the pendant no longer functioned as it should. Narcissa's eyes found the younger witch's in surprise, her voice pitching higher. "I meant for you, Hermione." The pink in her cheeks crept down her neck at the misunderstanding and her unintentional blurt of an explanation. Fingers found a piece on the chess board, moving it one step closer to a check.</p><p>"For me?" Hermione asked in a low voice, seeing the explosion of colour, Narcissa's favourite, in a new light. "But..why?" She could imagine, but hearing it from the blonde witch suddenly felt necessary. </p><p>"This is..was..a dark place for you. I wanted to assure that some light was brought in. Some life." Narcissa spoke low as well, vulnerable in a way she hadn't allowed in a number of years. </p><p>"You wanted me to feel comfortable", Hermione translated, her smile both genuine and incredulous. </p><p>"I wanted you to want to come back." Swallowing, Narcissa smoothed a hand over her thigh in a self-soothing gesture. "You've brought me such peace, Hermione. I only wished to do the same, in some small measure."</p><p>Hermione blinked, speechless in the face of such straightforwardness from this witch in particular. A blush of her own arose to match the one that had yet to die on the woman seated across from her. Uncomfortable in the silence, Narcissa's hand lifted to where her customary pendant would generally lay. </p><p>Taking notice of the fingers tapping at the pale collarbone, Hermione licked her lips and asked, "Does the necklace not work anymore?" Narcissa stilled, brows furrowing. </p><p>"It does. Why?" A beautiful distraction from the tension of the previous moment. </p><p>"It's just that.." Hermione was the one to hesitate then, "I never see you wearing it." Admitting that she'd like to, even to herself, spoke to the developing intensity of her attachment to the older witch. </p><p>Holding to the honest theme of the past few moments, Narcissa replied, "You have much the same effect, rendering the pendant unnecessary." </p><p>"Oh." Brief disappointment and then understanding took root in Hermione's chest in a form of warmth she recognized but would not acknowledge. </p><p>She didn't speak, choosing to leave it for another day. For there would be another day, of that she was sure.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Care</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'd like to thank everyone who has taken the time to read and send kudos and comment on this little collection thus far! As a celebration for reaching 1000((!!!!!!!)) hits, here's another chapter!</p><p> </p><p>We've time skipped here, another year has gone by.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione could count on one hand the number of disagreements she'd had with Narcissa over the last two years and still have fingers leftover. And even then, they were minor. Never had she seen Narcissa grow so angry she shouted, or so sorrowful that she could not help but to weep. </p><p> </p><p>While the younger witch couldn't truly say that she wished to witness something to the effect of an emotional outburst, there was a large part of her that was occasionally worried that she did not express enough. Clear communication had become the standard, though still Hermione could not help but feel that Narcissa held things back.</p><p> </p><p>Granted, the older witch had every right to her secrets. Yet that alone did not keep a creeping concern from grasping at her chest from the inside with increasing pressure. Hermione wondered what it would be that would prompt Narcissa to finally break down.</p><p>-</p><p> Diagon Alley was cramped as ever as Hermione walked with Harry, shoes snapping smartly on the cobblestones. One arm linked with his to avoid being separated, Hermione nearly shouted to be heard. The conversation itself wasn't very important but it was a comfort all the same to just be with a friend. Since the end of the war and Hermione's relationship with Ron ending, Harry and Hermione had bonded further. Closer than they'd ever been, the two made a point to have lunch together every other week to keep the friendship alive and well.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione wrote Narcissa the day before, explaining that she would be late to the cafe. Which was why, when she entered the little establishment after hugging Harry goodbye and kissing his cheek, Hermione could not pinpoint the reason that Narcissa might be upset.</p><p> </p><p>And yes, there was obviously something amiss. Narcissa's jaw was clenched, despite the blank expression. During their game of chess, each and every move the witch chose was aggressive. But most of all, Hermione could see it in her eyes, which lacked the sparkle that she had come to know so well.</p><p> </p><p>"Narcissa? What's on your mind?" Hermione expected a reprimand for tardiness, or changing plans at the last moment. But what she got was a curt, "Nothing."</p><p> </p><p>Taken aback by the blatant deflection, the younger witch took her turn. She remained silent until she could no longer ignore it. "I know something is wrong, please tell me."</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa's eyes grew colder, duller, as she nearly snapped, "None of your business. I am not one of your schoolmates that needs comfort."</p><p> </p><p>"W-wha- I don't.." Hermione was stunned speechless, unable to find the words to indicate just what she was feeling.</p><p> </p><p>The afternoon did not see the two still in the cafe, as was customary.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>"Something was up with her yesterday and I just can't put my finger on it." Hermione sprawled dejectedly on Harry and Ginny's sofa. The flat they'd moved into together wasn't large by any means. In fact, Hermione felt sure that the entire thing would fit into a number of rooms in Malfoy Manor.</p><p> </p><p>Thoughts of the place and its endless swathes of flowers brought a bittersweet pang to her chest. Ginny emerged from the kitchen to seat herself beside Hermione, carrying a tea kettle and three mugs. As she poured the hot drinks, Ginny shared a look with Harry that their guest did not see. A sort of private agreement to which no one but them could possibly be privy.</p><p> </p><p>"Did she act strangely the whole time? Since the moment we said goodbye?" Harry asked, to which Hermione nodded. Another look passed between the couple but Hermione didn't miss it this time.</p><p> </p><p>"What?"</p><p> </p><p>"Hermione, we're pretty sure that she fancies you." Ginny was the one to say it after several long seconds, an arm around Hermione's shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>"You have <em>got</em> to be joking", she delivered in a deadpan voice, shock stealing her ability to change tone.</p><p> </p><p>"No, we're really not", Harry spoke next, shrugging vaguely. Hermione sputtered, searching for the words to say how <em>ludicrous</em> it was to think such a thing. How very impossible the assertion would be, and how there was no way on Merlin's green Earth that Narcissa would ever see her like that.</p><p> </p><p>The last bit stung to consider, and now Hermione could not deny why that was.</p><p> </p><p>"Why would you even think that?"</p><p> </p><p>To Hermione's question, Ginny couldn't help but laugh. "How could you spend all this time with her and not think that? You've seen each other almost every day for the last two years. Harry and I have both seen the way she looks at you, Mione."</p><p> </p><p>"It's the way I look at Ginny", Harry cut in, smiling fondly at his girlfriend from the other side of Hermione. "Like she would do anything for you if it meant you would be happy."</p><p> </p><p>A brighter red than she'd ever been before, Hermione muttered, "Whether I <em>agree</em> with your theory or <em>not</em>, that still doesn't explain why she was acting so strangely yesterday."</p><p> </p><p>"Of course it does", Harry reasoned. "You kissed my cheek just outside the cafe. She was jealous."</p><p> </p><p>Like a ton of bricks just squashed her flat, the air left Hermione's lungs. Good thing she was sitting, or else she most certainly would've hit the floor.</p><p> </p><p>"Bloody hell", Hermione swore, again incapable of finding the words. "So what do I do now?" Ginny took one of Hermione's hands in both of hers and gave it a little squeeze.</p><p> </p><p>"You two need to talk. It's pretty obvious that you fancy her too."</p><p> </p><p>"I-.." Hermione didn't deny it, electing to think first. Ginny and Harry were the two people in the world who knew her best, and she couldn't simply discount their theories merely because she didn't want to admit to them. "Fine. I'll do it", she conceded, face pink. "If only to prove you wrong."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The front gate of Malfoy Manor opened at Hermione's touch, not a single creak signaling the action. Magic? Or was it perhaps merely well-oiled? The curious thoughts were a safe haven, a distraction from what she was going to do once she reached Narcissa's home up at the end of the long walk.</p><p> </p><p>What should she say? What should she do?</p><p> </p><p>Hermione hadn't found an answer by the time she was at the front door. She rang the bell, expecting the door to be opened by the house elf, Lala. Instead, she came face to face with the Lady of the house herself.</p><p> </p><p>"Narcissa!" Hermione greeted in pleased surprise.</p><p> </p><p>"Hermione." Narcissa's tone remained even and empty, wiping the smile from Hermione's face. The younger witch made as if to step forward but the blonde didn't budge.</p><p> </p><p>"Can we talk? Please? I-… I've got something to ask you." Still Narcissa didn't move.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm afraid I'm quite busy. I would like to be alone now."</p><p> </p><p>Hermione had no idea how dearly those words could hurt before that moment but it was something that she would never forget again. "It'll only take a minute", she insisted, refusing to leave until this was resolved one way or another. Narcissa capitulated with nothing more than her expression, Hermione had learned this face.</p><p> </p><p>"Erm.. okay, uh. I was just wondering-.. um.."</p><p> </p><p>"Spit it out", Narcissa ordered. Hermione flushed and then did it quickly, like ripping off a bandage.</p><p> </p><p>"Were you jealous when you saw me with Harry?" It was Narcissa's turn to sputter, denials dropping from her lips like rain.</p><p> </p><p>"Why would you-.. I-.. Absolutely not!" On the defense after being caught off her guard, Narcissa took half a step backwards.</p><p> </p><p>"Then what do you think of me?" Hermione pleaded for answers with her eyes, a look Narcissa had increasing levels of difficulty saying 'no' to.</p><p> </p><p>"I think.." Narcissa puffed out a breath in an unladylike manner, averting her eyes to stare at something in the middle distance to the right of Hermione's head. "I care about you, Hermione", she said in a low voice.</p><p> </p><p>Breathing out in relief, Hermione took the initiative and reached for the blonde witch's hand. Narcissa intertwined their fingers as she did so. The blush was attractive on the older witch's face.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione lifted their hands daringly and placed a the barest brush of a kiss on Narcissa's knuckles, unable to stop smiling.</p><p> </p><p>"I care about you too."</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Becoming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A direct follow-up to the last chapter, taking place a week later.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The crunch of snow beneath her boots always summoned a special sort of warmth in Hermione's chest. It was a sound associated with the trappings of winters spent in the embrace of hearth and home, hot chocolate and her father's singing, her mother's tinkling laughter and the promise of cold noses and wet boots and smiles that never quite faded.</p><p> </p><p>And now, of course, there was a new sort of heat that had thoroughly attached itself to that sound, the special flame that flickered deep in her belly whenever a certain witch was anywhere in the vicinity.</p><p> </p><p>At the present time, that particular witch was perhaps a bit farther away than Hermione would have preferred, but that was soon to be rectified as the brunette crunched her way steadily up the snowed over walkway that lead to the once imposing Malfoy abode.</p><p> </p><p><em>Nope</em>, Hermione revised that thought as she drew closer to the grand front doors, <em>still imposing</em>. While she might not tremble as she once had in the shadow of this place, there was still a distinct unfriendly aura that clung to it like a stench and shoved at the muggleborn so firmly as to nearly be physical.</p><p> </p><p>Ah well, that would change with time, she was certain. And she wasn't planning on letting a building define her love life.</p><p> </p><p>A heat rushed to her face that had absolutely nothing to do with the warming enchantment woven into her scarf. <em>Love life?</em> Is that what she was calling it now? It wasn't as if Narcissa had proclaimed her <em>love</em> or something of the sort.</p><p> </p><p>In fact, in the week since Hermione's impromptu questioning and pseudo confession, the elegant witch hadn't brought it up again at all. Not at the tea shop, at least. There was something the day before, just outside the little place, a sort of…glimmer in Narcissa's eye. Hermione had only just caught sight of it before the blonde bid her young companion a fond farewell and turned on the spot, disapparating before Hermione could even register what she thought she'd seen.</p><p> </p><p>But this was foolishness anyway, was it not? Hermione had certainly meant a very specific brand of care when she'd made her confession, but perhaps Narcissa did not? Perhaps this was all horrible misunderstanding on Hermione's part and she was preparing to do something very foolish and ruin a surprisingly therapeutic and caring friendship.</p><p> </p><p>Her stomach growled, a little tremble traveling up the length of her spine and reminding Hermione why she was standing on Narcissa's doorstep, and complaining about the fact that she seemed to see fit to simply freeze out in the snow rather then request entrance into the undoubtedly warmer home.</p><p> </p><p>"Miss Hermione is here", squeaked a small voice and Hermione blinked in surprise. She didn't even realize the door had opened in front of her, so lost in speculation and anxieties was she. Stepping into the blessedly magically heated manor, Hermione offered the house elf a smile that was only slightly chattering.</p><p> </p><p>"Hermione!" Merlin, that voice warmed her through more effectively than any magic, and Hermione was well aware in that moment that she was thoroughly screwed. Up until now, sure, she'd been faintly aware that she was well and truly falling for Narcissa Malfoy, but she'd never given it thought in such a way that acknowledged it as a feeling that properly existed. But now? Oh heavens. As Hermione's eyes flicked towards the doorway that she knew led to a hallway that led to Narcissa's favorite sitting room, she found herself smiling far more openly at the veritable angel with which she was presented.</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa strode forward smoothly, her brow creased in concern though the corners of her mouth seemed determined to display how very pleased she was by the younger witch's presence. Her robes extended elegantly to the floor, conforming to each curve as if the fabric were woven with her in mind.</p><p> </p><p>For all Hermione knew, it might have been.</p><p> </p><p>"Why didn't you come by fireplace? Look at you, you're half frozen." Drawing close, Narcissa made little motions towards her elf to hurry her along in taking Hermione's coat. "I really must add you.. You should be permitted to apparate right to the house", she added, seemingly more as an afterthought to herself than anything Hermione was expected to respond to.</p><p> </p><p>And it was a good thing too, as the thought of being given such trust and privilege while at the same time attempting to handle the idea of popping in to *this* place whenever she pleased was not something the shivering witch was equipped to deal with at the moment.</p><p> </p><p>"I was visiting my grandparents", Hermione answered, making sure the little elf wasn't too overcome with her fluffy parka. "They're not connected to the network." And no wonder, being muggles. Hermione was pretty sure that she could tell them about her magical existence, and that she *should* by now, but it had seemed easier when she was a child to simply pretend as if Hogwarts was some high class boarding school. And after so many years, a part of her felt that telling them the truth would only bring more stress and confusion than enlightenment and delight, so she didn't bother.</p><p> </p><p>Nodding once, as if the thought that anywhere at all might not be connected to the Floo Network had only just occurred to her, Narcissa lingered for a moment, awkwardly answering with an, "Ah."</p><p> </p><p>Merlin, she was mucking this up already.</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa, though she appeared as well put together and at home as ever, had not felt this strange and out of place since she was a teenager, vying for a half-decent match to continue the Black family, even if not in name. It wasn't as if Bellatrix had ever planned to kowtow to the pressure to raise a family, even if she'd been able to, and Andromeda was…Andromeda, so it was always on Narcissa to be the proper Pureblood wife and do her family proud. When she'd managed to catch the eye of Lucius Malfoy, well, it sufficed to say that Druella Black was beside herself. From that point forward it was as if Narcissa was somehow simultaneously the perfect daughter, and always coming up just a little bit short.</p><p> </p><p>Until Draco was born, that is.</p><p> </p><p>Where was her mind today? On everything but what it should be, clearly. Namely, the beautiful witch dripping melted snow in her foyer.</p><p> </p><p>Without batting an eye at the snowmelt, something the old Narcissa would have been appalled over, the blonde drew Hermione into her arms and squeezed her tightly. Hermione's cold cheek touched Narcissa's, but the older witch's shiver was not induced by the temperature.</p><p> </p><p>Pulling away from a Hermione that appeared to be minorly dazed, Narcissa repeated the action she'd thought of countless times since she'd done it exactly a week earlier, intertwining their fingers and leading the young witch to the sitting room.</p><p> </p><p>If Narcissa believed in gods, she'd have prayed, but as it was she merely held her breath as Hermione's eyes travelled the room they customarily took tea in, eyes drifting from the surfaces covered in candles, to the table in the center set for a proper dinner and featuring a three pronged candelabra of its own. She drew away from Hermione out of pure instinct, folding her hands before her as she awaited a reaction that Hermione seemed incapable of providing at the moment.</p><p> </p><p>"O..-oh."</p><p> </p><p>In shock, taken aback by the beauty of the setup, the unexpectedness of it, and the…romance? The nearly forgotten blush she'd sported on Narcissa's doorstep returned in full force and Hermione shifted from one foot to the other, at a loss as to how to react.</p><p> </p><p>The owl Narcissa had sent inviting her to dinner had been…well, polite would have been the word Hermione would have used at the time. But now, looking back, she supposed that she assumed the fancy layout of the invitation was simply the norm for the older witch, though she'd exchanged casual notes with Narcissa a time or two in the past. This was…an event, and Hermione felt suddenly and <em>dreadfully</em> underdressed for what now clawed at her brain in insistence that it was a date, and nothing less.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm afraid I..expected something else", Hermione said finally, giving Narcissa the most apologetic of looks. And, as per usual, the blonde misunderstood entirely. Stiffening where she stood, Narcissa only avoided turning a rather magnificent shade of crimson over what she now thought was a completely false assumption based upon Hermione's behaviour and confession a week earlier thanks to pure willpower and years of training in avoiding making a fool of herself in public.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry, I-", Narcissa found her throat closing in a thoroughly humiliating manner and, to her horror, the prickle of tears at the corners of her eyes would not be quelled by willpower alone.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione, to her credit, caught on quickly, taking several swift steps towards Narcissa and drawing the witch's hands into her own. Oh no, not again. This wasn't going to happen like their last misunderstanding, she was determined.</p><p> </p><p>"No, that's not what I meant. I just meant that I'm a bit underdressed", she clarified, giving Narcissa's hands a squeeze. "This looks lovely."</p><p> </p><p>Though nothing could compare to Narcissa herself, clad in a material that could not decide whether it was gold or black and practically radiant in the multiplied glow that lit up the sitting room from all corners.</p><p> </p><p>Searching her young companion's face, Narcissa did not move, seeking an answer she no longer seemed sure of.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione licked her lips nervously and the motion did not go unnoticed. Narcissa's eyes followed the flick, leaping from the younger witch's mouth to her eyes and back down again.</p><p> </p><p>As if under a spell, one of Narcissa's hands lifted to Hermione's chin, taking it gently and dragging her thumb just beneath the brunette's lower lip in a thoughtful mirroring of her tongue.</p><p> </p><p>The moment suspended itself between them before being shattered by the growling of Hermione'S stomach. Heat flooded her again as the bubble of a moment popped, and she wondered just what might have happened had it not.</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa's hand fell away from Hermione's face and neither woman spoke of what had just occured, instead laughing in a less strained manner over the magnitude of Hermione's hunger.</p><p> </p><p>But Narcissa laughed for a different reason, though she did not deem to share with Hermione. Because as she thought of hunger, really considering it, she could feel her own just beneath the surface, ready to snap at any moment, to break free and complete the job of making clear to Hermione what it really was that Narcissa desired of her.</p><p> </p><p>It was comical, she thought, that all the standards she'd adapted and behaviors she'd adopted to become that which she thought would satisfy an unspoken need, only served to <em>lead</em> her to the very first thing, the first person, who might ever have a chance at leading Narcissa to true satisfaction. And with every step down that path, Narcissa could feel herself being drawn towards a new becoming, a swelling within her that she readily embraced as she seated herself opposite the young witch who'd captured her heart.</p><p></p><div>
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